


Release

by debunker



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Plug, Ankle Cuffs, BDSM, Blindfolds, Blood, Chains, Collars, Disguise, Domination, F/M, Guilt, Handcuffs, High Heels, Incest, Lust, M/M, Mycroft-centric, Pegging, Priests, Riding Crops, Sadism, Sibling Incest, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Subspace, Torture, cat flogger, religious musings, stimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 11:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4833707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debunker/pseuds/debunker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the last session for Mycroft Holmes and Irene Adler as she's leaving London. She has prepared something unforgettable for him. It has to do with Sherlock. Everything for Mycroft has to do with Sherlock.<br/>This is very explicit and can seem pretty sick if you're not into hard stuff.<br/>For those who want to take the risk, remember the safeword!</p><p>Check notes for recommended music (just an option)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To my beloved K.

Chapter 1  
\- This is our last time. – Irene put her hand on Mycroft’s shoulder. – I’m leaving tomorrow. Forever we hope.  
They exchanged glances full of meaning. Irene’s departure was set out for now. Her leaving London was a great relief for a number of people connected to her. She was promised protection, shelter, tons of money and relative freedom away from the capital. Away from Sherlock as well. Of course, Mycroft was involved in the operation but as usual preferred to act as nothing concerned him. Not this time, at least.  
This matter was getting far too personal. He did know Sherlock was aware of the fact Irene was back to England after her Eastern adventures and was trying to contact her. The efforts she learnt about and could be inclined to support. That was a bad, bad idea. Mycroft could not let his brother under this attack one more time. It was too much for Sherlock. And too much for him. Too much risk Sherlock would slip again. Too much risk he would fall for her and be left broken and used. Little Sherlock who never really learnt to play in the adult world. Not that he did know how to do it in the kids’ one. So Mycroft knew he had to put an end to it. ASAP.  
Unfortunately for him it also meant the end of his own guilty pleasure being satisfied by the dominatrix. She might have not reached for Sherlock but she was pretty cunning to drag Mycroft into her web. At least, he could control his tongue, even when he could not speak because his mouth was gagged.  
He exchanged Irene’s services with his own efforts trying (and succeeding) in getting her deal sealed at best terms possible. She had the power to put him on his knees but he could make the whole country kneel for her.  
She walked a circle around him which was always the start of their itinerary as they called it. The subspace was waiting with its doors open. Mycroft once thought Irene’s dungeon was some kind of a confessional. He was bare there under the eyes of his own begging for mercy, begging to be purified of his sins. And he knew for sure that the priestess would never tell anyone a word of what he did or said in that room. Not because she had any ethic code but because she knew she would be found dead the instance after she opened her mouth to reveal anything about the almighty Mycroft Holmes. This twisted pleasure of being dominated for some time by the person he dominated always was Mycroft's kick. Well, not the only one we’d say.  
Irene knew her business well. She quickly got the things and tricks Mycroft liked even they spoke so little. But she was a good observer and had a nasty drive which Mycroft enjoyed tremendously. He could always expect some dirty little move from her.  
Now he was looking with his head down on her shiny black shoes with spiky heels as she walked lazily around him looking at his naked body with contempt. Probably she did not have to pretend but Mycroft was already half-aroused nevertheless.  
Standing on a lavish carpet in her dimmed room he felt exposed and relieved at the same time. It was like becoming a child again, returning to the time when shame and lust did not exist, feeling free for a while. Well, that was weird considering he was wearing a collar with a long thick chain right now. Irene had a vast range of proper devices to please him in any way possible, and he loved the fact she chose expensive pieces. Even unveiled, Mycroft preferred comfort and luxury. The carpet was excellent as well just as the bed and the bathroom. Mycroft could have continued taking his mental notes for a long while but Irene’s cold voice brought him back to reality.  
\- Remember the safeword?  
He nodded and was immediately spanked across his pale buttocks with a riding crop. A quick, meticulous shot which made his balls tingle with anticipation.  
\- Yes, my lady. – He replied with prompt obedience feeling his sensual perception starting to drift towards the open gate of the subspace.  
\- Then. – Irene paused and that moment was filled with dark triumph. – On your knees!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
As soon as he touched the carpet his thoughts started to fade away leaving space to sensations. Standing there on his hands and knees with his impressive cock getting harder, soft warm leather hugging his neck he felt somewhat relaxed, drowning slowly in letting go. Letting it all go, making the world around shrink to the two of them. His lids were growing heavier and he was almost tempted to lie down to take a nap. He was exhausted, his job and a number of situations left him no time to breath in properly.  
The freezing touch of the metal point of Irene’s pump made him shiver in delight. Oh, that stinging pain against his vertebras was so desired. She pressed it in harder making him arch his back and lower himself to stay closer to the floor. Then the riding crop slid tentatively long his shoulder and touched his right cheek with the slightest pat leaving it hot and reddish. Irene knew she could not leave any visible mark on his ever-exposed parts such as his face and his hands, but was she tempted to. She felt a strange mix of contempt and fear for this man knelt in front of her as she knew that was a nuclear weapon in her little hands. One wrong move and it would explode reducing her to atoms with no hesitation. And that was why she herself enjoyed the scene so much. She used to get a major kick of it compared to her usual practices.  
She felt somewhat aroused by the sight of her own feet in black shiny shoes pointing against Mycroft’s unexercised back. Well, probably Freud would not disapprove her self-reversed foot and shoe fetish, after all it was such an entrancing sensation – putting this man down and making him into pieces. Each time it felt so good she almost felt disappointed to leave. Oh, these Holmes brothers…  
She kicked him slightly making the man cringe at the sensation of the metal tap breaking his skin tight against his spine. The prick was just the first mark Mycroft knew. The first of many marks he’d be left with at the end of their session which would remind him of the events days after.  
Irene’s shoe glided down his spine to his bottom spreading his buttocks apart and pressing against his eager hole. Mycroft moaned eagerly, oh, he loved the pressure, and his rear was truly sensitive. Moaned, and was rewarded with another pat across his mouth now. The crop then lingered on his lips and Irene’s still voice commanded.  
\- Lick!  
He covered the tip of the crop with his saliva dripping from his hot mouth sucking the edge and whimpering at the leathery stinging taste of it as it retracted sliding over his cheek and shoulder. Simultaneously he felt the point of Irene’s pump sting his hole making him twitch ecstatically. Mycroft was not into torture but a certain amount of inflicted pain rocketed him to the stars. And it’s been a while since he saw them for the last time so he was really into enjoying today’s evening to the full.  
\- To the bed! Quick! – he started crawling followed by his dom’s steps and slashed across his back and buttocks. The sound of the chain dragging along was music to his ears. His lolled out tongue was getting dry and he started to breath heavily.  
\- Hurry up, old dick! – Irene was genuinely enjoying the game. Mycroft almost smirked and caught by his dom’s attentive eye was slapped under his balls with sadistic precision. Mycroft moaned and shook a little at the intensity of stimulation. He was getting an evident hard-on with the head of his cock leaving the foreskin and peeping out red and shiny. He felt his balls heavy with semen and what? Stress maybe. Yes, he came for release, but sexual tension was just an outlet for much more serious issues to overcome. The issues concerning his dear brother for instance.  
With each move and each new pat under his swollen balls he felt further away from the rest of the world, detachment started to get over him.  
He reached the edge of the bed and stopped there waiting for his next moves to be defined by his delightful top.  
\- Butt up! – the command was.  
And he obeyed.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
The butt plug Irene chose today was black. Her favorite color fit perfectly Mycroft’s milky skin. She felt it was quite an event tonight. Their last session had to become not only intense but aesthetically stimulating as well.  
\- Let me see what a slut you are, - she hissed in his ear pushing the lubricated tip of the toy inside Mycroft’s hole. – Little dirty slut.  
Mycroft moaned in response whisking his arse invitingly. It was enough for her to push it all inside making his gasp for air and tremble slightly adjusting to the plug inside him grabbing the edge of the black bed sheet. Oh, he was a trained kid. She knew it exactly from the number of toys she’d tried on him. She got it right from the start that he was into anal stimulation more than into anything else. What intrigued her was the clear impression he was not just a latent gay bottom. There was more behind his eagerness. She felt it was almost sacral to him. He loved rough treatment and punishment not for mere sexual satisfaction they gave him.  
She kept the hand of the plug moving it slightly in and out making Mycroft pant. The riding crop was put to the side for now and her other hand was holding the chain attached to her sub’s collar. She just pulled it a little to make him shift his head to her lips.  
\- Oh, I know how much you like your anus full, I know that needy slut, look at you. You rule the country, decide upon destinies. They say so but it’s a lie. A big hard cock inside, that’s all what you care about, right? – she stuck the plug harder inside pushing it to the stop.  
Mycroft was producing unarticulated sounds, his arms and legs getting shaky and cold, pulsation starting around the object inside him, his cock straightening to a full erection with traitorous promptness.  
\- Rrright, - his heart started ponding heavily, pumping blood to his clouded brain producing fragments of memories. Him with women awkward and often discarded as not enough good-looking and too strange and old-fashioned. Him with men, sucked, licked, being let in. Office bitches, accidental shags, a hot army officer he came across while searching for an appropriate flat mate for his younger brother. Him in private treating himself to forbidden fantasies while jerking off desperately in the shower against his very posh tiles in his very prestigious and very solitary house, the fantasies he needed to be beaten for, treated like a piece of crap for, oh yes, that is why he was here. A chastener.  
\- This is so bad for you, so so bad. – Irene stood up with the chain in her hand. Mycroft was not allowed to look up at her but he knew the way she was looking down at him. It made him flush and his nipples got hard and achy. He was sweating a little mostly from having to stand on all fours. After all he was not a young boy anymore. Alas.  
\- Get on the bed.  
In a minute Mycroft found himself spread on his stomach with the chain hooked to the bed and his arms and legs pinned to the four corners of the frame. His erect cock was rubbing against the black bed sheets and his arse was slowly burning with the black plug inside. How decadent, Mycroft thought, true decadence. And a stimulating lube. Nice.  
\- I know you’ve got these secrets of yours and will pay for them. You will pay with your own blood.  
 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
From the sounds coming from behind he knew something special was being prepared. He was not allowed to lift his head to look in the mirror placed in front of the bed and he had to wait to discover what the surprise consisted in. He shifted back and forward rubbing himself against the bed almost subconsciously as his whole body was becoming one big spot trembling with need to come. That was unnerving and super exciting.  
But when a pointy cat ripped up his flesh he momentarily switched off only to awaken to the flaming pain. He cried out desperately as the air seemed to penetrate his back to the bones. The sensation so overwhelming it eased his aching erection for a while shifting his attention to his marred part. The cat whewed again and before even Mycroft could realize a new wave of stinging pain was coming he saw the drops of blood on his right forearm. And then fire flushed down his back sending streams of red beads down his ribs to soak the luxurious bed sheets.   
Mycroft was trying to push himself up escaping instinctively from the third possible raid.  
He squeezed his eyes shut tight to cut out vision as it took too much effort. His body was redistributing resources to fight the torture result. It felt like being left over a thousand burners with the flesh put inside out. It felt like skin did not exist anymore, he felt completely stripped.  
He sensed, not even heard as he’d gone almost deaf for a while, Irene’s steps and her body close to him. He twitched feverishly as she lifted her hand only to place it over his back calming him down a little. Her touch burnt against the cuts. Mycroft felt poodles of blood all over his back and feared imagining what it looked like. Irene’s light hand left his back and he found her face almost pressed against his as she licked his blood of her fingers. She stared at him with her fixed gaze, her blackest pupils wide, blood at the corner of her lips.  
\- Salty it is, - she whispered. – Very salty. But could it be more salty?  
She waited a second giving him a chance to say his safeword. But he just stared at her in pain, his lips tight, his forehead wet, a strand of hair clinging to it. Poor Mycroft. So little was left of the ever-composed and cool country-ruler. Lust, Irene knew it for sure, lust and guilt were enough to strip anybody of their vests and bare their true essence. This tired, sore, regretful man was the real Mycroft. Oh, she’ll remember him like that.  
\- Light can be too much for you now, - with these words she blindfolded him.  
 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
Mycroft despised church. He did, but he could not deny that was a part of his mind, deep inside he feared the images he was fed as a child. Hell and Paradise, decision to be taken, would it ever be in his favor? Okay, these places do not exist, stupid brat, but still… Priests intrigued him. Their black robes and white collars, such a laconic and lust triggering combination. What would it be like to have a priest, maybe right inside the church, say, pressed against the altar? Mycroft hided such thoughts as a voice inside told him that was exactly the kind of things he’d be sent in the hottest spot in Hell for. He sometimes thought about all those flames burning there. Flames, purifying dirty souls. His own dirty soul.  
What he imagined when Irene poured salt on his wounds and started to rub it in was his own private hell. Sacred fire burning his flesh down to ashes, making him try to double up trapped in his cuffs, throbbing helplessly, screaming and panting, uncontrollable tears running down his crushed face. The unbearable weight of Irene’s hand pressing him back against the bed. Slow agony, salt eating his ripped body.  
He felt he was close to passing out as his nervous system was going into overload. With the edge of his mind he thought that was something Sherlock would say. Sherlock. He tried to breathe and visualize his brother at his side. He would not probably be the right person to lull him after such a shock but the image of his face somehow made him breathe a little bit deeper.  
He thought by now his back would be detached from his body which became ethereal for now. He could not feel his own weight, he almost floated. His perception drifted and changed its shape becoming a rainbow bubble at the point of breaking.  
He did not know exactly when Irene stopped, she probably saw him slipping away and decided he’d got enough.  
He only regained his senses partially when she slowly pulled the butt plug out of him at which suddenly his auditory sense returned. He felt her kneeling behind him and bending over him to take off his bandage. He kept his eyes shut shaking, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose, his lips trembling, his mouth dry.  
He felt her hands on his hips stroking gently lifting them up. Then he felt a slick rubber object slide from his tailbone down in between his arse cheeks and chafing against his opening. His heart made a long awkward beat suppressing his lungs for a second and his cock twitched, almost hard and unbelievably full as he sensed the cool lube spread over his hole.  
\- Now look at me in the mirror, - Irene’s voice was almost tender now. He could never tell she was capable of such intonations.  
Slowly he lifted his head up and locked eyes with Irene. What he saw was surreal to him. Parts of his cut skin open exposing red flesh under, uneven pink stripes of swollen burnt with salt skin, white spots presumably experiencing overreaction, blood all over his shoulders and hips. A hot bloody mess, sweat and blood and tears on his face, ruins of the old Mycroft. But it was not all.  
Irene behind him was wearing a short dark curly wig and a Belstaff coat, oh, yes, the COAT… and a black strap-on.  
She looked motionless, registering his reaction, only her fingers on his hips stiffened a little.  
Mycroft caught himself at the thought he did not remember how to blink. The whole thing did not feel real, the reflection of that quasi-Sherlock over his destroyed body, his cock up, his balls heavy, it could not be reality.  
Irene nodded a little in silence and shifted herself positioning the tip of the long dildo at Mycroft’s stretched hole.  
\- I forgive you, brother. – She was still looking at him in the mirror, entranced, her too entering a new dimension.  
She pushed the toy lightly inside making the man under shudder and moan and grab bed sheets with his large palms.  
She worked her way inside him with patience checking on Mycroft’s expression in the mirror, his contorted mouth making an “O”, his eyes rolling back at the sensation, tired but full of lust. His ripped back was horrendous to see but she knew that was exactly what he wanted. Flames of purifying pain, oh, he knew exactly which sins he was paying for. Blue eyes, cutting cheek bones, angular face – her and Sherlock did look alike.  
They needed no words to exchange. The intensity of the moment flooded over them, Mycroft almost starting to laugh silently as she was working her way inside him. Irene was losing herself in little thrusts bringing her hips closer to his thighs. She was not herself anymore, she was Sherlock finally giving his brother what he’s been craving for the most of his life. When she pushed all of her strapped-on shaft inside him she pressed her legs against Mycroft’s body and made a couple of small circles making him groaning hard with pleasure. She felt his heat, looked at his well-shaped buttocks, massaged him and when he pushed back with eagerness she hold him still for a moment locking eyes with him in the mirror.  
\- I’m gonna fuck you now, brother. I know you want it.  
Mycroft felt his cock twitched and almost bumped against his shaking stomach at these words.  
It was not real.  
\- Oh, please... I do… please, do it… please.  
He was almost whispering as his voice betrayed him, his throat clenched in the leather collar, his lips numb.  
Irene started moving tentatively finding the rhythm. He already was well-prepared, open and lubed, shocked and released, his prostate stimulated to the point it would not take much to make him come. She was going in medium thrusts making her legs spank against his thighs and watching with satisfaction as he bit his lip in excitement at each sound. Soon his hips started to move towards hers as the ride was getting more and more intense.  
In his head a montage of images started to spread.  
Sherlock standing close to him so that he can smell his shampoo.  
Sherlock in his bed sheet with nothing under.  
Sherlock sharing a cigarette with him.  
Sherlock leaning in to kiss him hard.  
Sherlock opening the fly of his trousers and sliding a hand inside to pass his thumb over the head of his swollen cock through his pants.  
Sherlock with Mycroft’s come on his face in Mycroft’s office.  
Naked Sherlock in front of him bent over a pile of cushions on the bed ready to be penetrated, hot like a cheap whore.  
Sherlock coming in Mycroft’s hands.  
Sherlock passing his hard cock on the rear part of Mycroft’s thighs and hitting it against his buttocks before entering him, filling him, fucking him without stops.  
Oh yes, Sherlock, like that.  
Just like that.  
This is the spot.  
Oh, brother, this is good.  
Good Sherlock, hard Sherlock.  
Go harder.  
Fuck me to bits.  
Take your chance.  
Harder.  
I want it all.  
Yes, yes, yes, ooooh yes.  
This is it.  
Oh, I’m so close.  
Oooohhhhhh, who taught you to move like that, to make these circles inside.  
Harder, go harder, Sherlock, don’t spare me.  
I deserve this.  
Give it to me.  
Keep doing this, keep going, keep gooooohhhiiiiingggg.  
Oh, gosh. Fuck, fuck, Sherlock, oh fuck!  
This is Heaven, Sherlock, this is Heaven….

**Author's Note:**

> Music:  
> Break the Ice - Britney Spears


End file.
